


see the bruise, see the truth

by intoxicatelou



Category: Big Little Lies (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence - S1 Finale, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26184130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoxicatelou/pseuds/intoxicatelou
Summary: “Tell me I’m doing the right thing,” Celeste asks, staring at the sunset dipping past the ocean.“You are.” Amanda says over the phone, her voice an instant comfort. Celeste wraps her arms around herself a little tighter, the salt air cool against her face.
Relationships: Dr. Amanda Reisman/Celeste Wright
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35
Collections: Flash Fuck Around 2020





	see the bruise, see the truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimaracretak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/gifts).



> Canon Divergence S1 finale in a way that becomes apparent fairly soon. Warnings for canon-typical discussion/portrayal of abuse.
> 
> Title is a lyric from the song [ Domestic Bliss](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SYFIkEElZ-c) by Glass Animals which I looped aggressively while writing this. 
> 
> Comments & Kudos welcome <3

“I can still give you the number,” Dr. Reisman says, as she walks Celeste to the door. 

“I’m not actually going to report you to the Better Business Bureau, Doctor.” Celeste says, pausing, shaking her head at the business card in the woman’s hand. She tucks a piece of hair behind her back, her eyes feel raw as they always do after therapy these days, but it’s better here than at home. Dr. Reisman is the only person who sees her as she is: true, raw, splintered, trying. She’d be foolish to risk losing that now even if their relationship has developed far more than Celeste could’ve imagined it to be.

“I know,” Dr. Reisman says, with a sigh. Celeste could see the additional pinch in her eyes, the slight crease of her brow. The other woman’s face is typically so stoically calm but lately, Celeste’s picked up on the tiny details of change. “But you should.” 

“Dr. Reisman — “ 

“Celeste,” Dr. Reisman says, cutting her off. She gently pushes the business card into Celeste’s palm anyway. 

“This is ridiculous, please —“ Celeste protests until she reads the number scrawled in black ink on the back of the card. 

“I want to trust you’ll tell a friend about what’s going on with Perry, but just in case.” Dr. Reisman’s fingers wrap around her own. “It’s my personal cell.”

She sees Dr. Reisman’s jaw tense, as if she’s expecting retaliation, anger, confusion, but Celeste feels nothing of the above. Her eyes well up in what can only be called relief. 

“Doctor, thank you.” Celeste says, squeezing the other woman’s hands in her own. 

Dr. Reisman relaxes, just the slightest of action, but Celeste can tell. Her eyes hold their familiar warmth as she asks, “And please, Celeste, call me Amanda. I think we’re there.” 

“Oh.” Celeste breathes, “Amanda.” 

Dr. Reisman —  _ Amanda  _ smiles as she opens the door for Celeste. “Reach out if you need me, Celeste. Otherwise, I’ll see you next time.” 

Celeste smiles back, tucking the business card into her pocket. 

—

“Celeste,” Amanda says, like she’s holding her breath, and Celeste doesn’t say anything, just brushes past her, her nerves fraying with each second she spends outside. Her body aches in places it shouldn’t ache, Perry’s voice still sharp in her ear,  _ get up, Celeste, you’ve just got the wind knocked out of you. _

She hadn’t called before showing up, it isn’t her usual time, but she’d had the decency to send a quick text half-way out her driveway. She doesn’t know how she was sure Amanda would open her door. But she had, and Celeste’s grateful, even as her mind whirls as she sits down on the couch with a pained groan, tears springing to her eyes.

“Oh,” Amanda murmurs, and Celeste hears the other woman sit next to her, feels the gentle hand against her back. 

_ I’m sorry Sparkles,  _ she knows it isn’t him but she hears his voice anyway, the way his hand had burned against her back, no comfort to be found. 

“Don’t touch me, please,” Celeste says, with a sniffle, pulling away from the touch. Amanda pulls her hand away immediately, and Celeste presses her palms against her eyes before mumbling, “I got the apartment.” 

“Are you in it?” Amanda asks, “Is the refrigerator stocked? You’re going to leave him?”    


Celeste looks up at the hard edge in Amanda’s voice, something akin to anger and grief, emotional in a way she hasn’t heard the other woman before. “He’s going away in the morning so,” Celeste says with a nod, “We just have to go away to this school gala tonight.” 

“Jesus christ,” Amanda exclaims, and Celeste can tell she’s frustrated. “it’s one thing he should kill you, but god forbid you miss a party.” 

Celeste’s eyes widen, especially as the woman continues, “You know, your husband is ill, but so are you Celeste.” Amanda shakes her head, “There are children in the house.” 

Celeste feels her stomach throb uncomfortably as she protests, “I told you, he will not hurt the children.” She gets to her feet, even as her body shudders in pain. “He will never hurt the children!”   


“Celeste,” Amanda says, getting to her feet.  _ Mommy isn’t feeling good today,  _ Celeste hears Perry’s voice, thinks about Max and Josh, pictures their bodies bruised and bloody like her own. She shakes her head, Perry had demons but he would never do that, he would never hurt them. Not their children. 

“It’s alright, I’m fine.” Celeste lies, before brushing past Amanda. She lets the door slam on her way out and barely makes it to her car before bursting into a fit of tears. 

  
  


—

  
  


“Tell me I’m doing the right thing,” Celeste asks, staring at the sunset dipping past the ocean. 

“You are.” Amanda says over the phone, her voice an instant comfort. Celeste wraps her arms around herself a little tighter, the salt air cool against her face. “I got your photos by the way, it looks like a great place.” 

“Thank you,” Celeste says, watching a couple below jog down the beach. “And I’m sorry about this morning. It was wrong to just barge in like that.” 

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have pushed you like I did,” Amanda says with a sigh. 

“It’s okay, you just want me to be safe.” Celeste says, and her ribs ache, dull but there even with the codeine she’d taken earlier in the day. 

“I do,” Amanda agrees, “More than anything.” 

Celeste feels the tears well up in her eyes at the conviction in the other woman’s voice. 

“But it’s okay to let yourself feel, Celeste.” Amanda adds, quieter. “Even as you prepare to leave. I know it isn’t an easy decision.” 

“But it’s the right one.” Celeste says, and for once, she doesn’t hear the doubt in her mind, just the sound of the ocean as it hits the shore. 

—

She tries to picture it, the ocean, Amanda’s voice,  _ breathe, Celeste, breathe _ , when it happens, Perry his body, twisted at the bottom of the stairs. Tries to picture sand, the smell of chamomile tea that Amanda would make her during their longer sessions, as she sops at the blood, Jane shaking next to her, and the rest of her friends frozen at the sound of the ambulance drawing close. 

—

She doesn’t go to the hospital. She barely peeks at Perry’s body, lying there with the medics all over him, before the police pull her to the side to demand a statement. 

It feels like hours, even though they can’t have questioned her for more than twenty minutes, and when it’s over, she can hardly remember a word she’d said. Her stomach aches and she can still taste the blood from her split lip. 

“We can take Max and Josh,” Madeline says, and Ed nods next to her. “Chloe’s still awake, so if they are, we’ll drive by and pick them up from the sitter. What’s her name again? Carly?”    


“Kelly,” Celeste says, blinking at the couple in front of her. She can’t help but fixate on the arm Ed’s wrapped around Madeline, how he does his best to cover the tear in her white shirt. A tear her own husband created. 

“Oh, I know her! You don’t even need to give me the number hon, I’ve got it right here.” Madeline says after quickly looking up the name in her phone.

“I can drive you back, Celeste.” Ed adds, “I’m pretty sure I saw one of the cops grab Perry’s keys when they put him on the stretcher.” 

“Oh, then I can pick you up from her place —” Madeline says, nodding but Celeste shakes her head, the thought of walking back into their bedroom, their house, their life with Perry’s blood still on her hands and soaked into her dress too nauseating to even consider. 

“No, I appreciate it, Ed. But I’ll probably just ask an officer to drive me to the hospital before heading home,” Celeste lies. “Also, thank you for the offer about the twins, but I already called their grandmother. They’re with her, so they’ll be fine.” 

“Oh. Of course, no problem. We’re glad they’re okay.” Ed says with a smile, but Celeste can read his discomfort in the gesture. He wears his worry so much more plainer than Madeline does. 

“You don’t have to go see Perry, Celeste.” Madeline says, firmly and Celeste sees Ed’s eyes widen at his wife’s forwardness. “Not unless you want to, but you don’t owe him anything.” 

“He’s still my husband, Madeline,” Celeste finds herself saying, her fingers tracing over her wedding ring.  _ He hurts me, but he’s still my husband,  _ her mind repeats. 

“Madeline, it’s getting pretty late,” Ed says, gratefully filling the beat of silence. Celeste sees the stressed line of Madeline’s shoulders fall, though she can tell she had more to say. 

“You’re right, okay.” Madeline says, before reaching to squeeze Celeste’s hand in comfort. “Get some rest, if you can." 

Celeste nods numbly, doing her best to give Madeline a smile as she watches the couple walk off. 

—

She calls Amanda from the quiet of the car (Ed had been right, luckily one of the officers had pocketed the keys before loading Perry into the ambulance). 

It’s late, almost eleven, and she feels her stomach fall on the first, second, third ring — “Celeste?” Amanda’s voice pours in, gentle and calm, and Celeste wants to wrap herself in the sound. 

“Amanda,” Celeste breathes, her voice shaking. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late, but Perry, he hurt himself at Trivia night. He —” Celeste pauses, the smell of dried blood overwhelming her again, “He fell. Down the stairs, he’s at the hospital.”   


“Where are you?” Amanda asks, and Celeste doesn’t have to see her face to imagine the worried line in her forehead. 

“Still at Trivia night. In the car.” Celeste trembles, tears springing to her eyes as she remembers the last conversation they’d had. What he’d been doing to her, this monster she loved. “He knew I was leaving him, Amanda. He found out about the apartment, and —”

“My god. Text me where you are,” Amanda interrupts. 

Celeste wants to protest, can hear the thought in her mind, but she can feel the tears in her eyes, and the ache of her body is sharp enough she knows she shouldn’t be alone. 

“Okay,” Celeste says, instead, pulling the phone away from her ear to share her location with Amanda.    
  
“Perfect, I got it.” Amanda says, and Celeste hears shuffling on the other line, the sound of a car door opening. “I’m just getting in the car, Celeste. It looks like it’ll be a seven minute drive. Who’s with the boys?”

“Kelly’s taking care of the boys, and the hospital said they’ll call me with updates about Perry, and I know I should go see him, but my dress is ruined, and...I don’t know,” Celeste rambles, swallowing a sob. She doesn’t want to go to the hospital because she doesn’t want the doctor to poke and prod at her, to diagnose her bruised rib cage, her black and blue stomach. 

“Jesus, of course you don’t want to go see him,” Amanda says, and Celeste hears the car start in the background. “I”ll be there soon, just hang on okay?”   


“Okay,” Celeste repeats, before hearing Amanda hang up. 

—

“Celeste,” Amanda’s face looms in front of her, and Celeste blinks as the woman wraps her in a hug, the passenger door swinging open. Celeste melts into the touch, the image of Perry’s misshapen body fizzling out of her mind as she lets herself be gently pulled to her feet. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Amanda murmurs, and Celeste wants to say things, but when she opens her mouth a sob floods out instead.

“I’m sorry,” Celeste chokes out, her voice muffled against Amanda’s shoulder. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Amanda replies, firm and fierce. “Nothing at all.”   
  
“I didn’t tell anyone,” Celeste sobs, “But they all saw it anyway. He was kicking me, over and over —”   


“Jesus christ,” Amanda curses, and her arms loosen just a bit, almost as if she picked up on how squeezing would only aggravate Celeste’s pain. The action is small but it only makes Celeste cry harder. 

“I don’t know what to do. Amanda, I don’t know —”

“Do you trust me?” Amanda asks, pulling back to cup Celeste’s face in her palms. Celeste nods, blinking through her tears. It’s strange how comforting the gesture is, how she wants nothing more than to lean into the other woman’s touch, to crawl inside the kindness in her voice. It should be wrong, considering where her husband is, but it’s what she needs right now. To be held, without bruises, without hurt, without lies. 

“Then let me take care of you,” Amanda says, and her eyes hold such warmth and promise, Celeste lets out a shaky breath. It’s been so long since anyone’s looked at her like that and meant it. 

“Amanda —” Celeste breathes, and their lips brush, just barely, but it’s enough. Enough to know that this is what she wants. 

“Don’t think, Celeste.” Amanda whispers, her thumb tracing the edge of Celeste’s split lip. “You’re safe now.” 


End file.
